Like Diamond, Like Stone
by Unicorn0401
Summary: First one-shot from Megumi's point of view about her feelings towards Soma and Erina, second one-shot from Soma's point of view and third one-shot from Erina's point of view.
1. Like Diamond, Like Stone

You think it's his kindness that makes it so cruel. You think it's those moments when you are the apple of his eye, when you are everything that are the worst. Those are the moments you feel full. The moments where you are the only thing that exists and those topaz eyes seem to fill the hole inside you, the hole shaped like him. It's always like this, him giving out affection and you never being quite strong enough to resist.

It's not his intention to hurt you. Everything he says; everything he does is because it's what he believes. He means it when he says that you are important. He means it when he says you're too good to disappear here. He means it when he says he trusts you. Those smiles he directs just at you he means to, those moments when he can tell just how a day has been by the rhythm of your breath, their all his intention. They're all meant to be viewed by you but, you remind yourself they don't belong to you.

He belongs to _her._ He belongs to _her jewel_ like eyes, golden tresses and rose petal lips. _She_ is the more that you could never accomplish. _She_ is the just right to your not enough or too much. _She_ is always pretty enough, talented enough, smart enough. _She_ is carved diamond all precious, all perfect, worth more than many could give. You're too cute, too weird, too nice. You're not talented enough, not smart enough, not confident enough. You're made from stone, made to last, made to be used and abused- not hoarded. You were made to carry the burden, not be the burden.

So, it's in those moments where his topaz eyes flicker like candlelight, in those moments where he gives the lopsided smile that seems to burn the oxygen from the air, in those moments when you hold all the warmth and fire he has, that it feels most cruel. That you feel like maybe that smile can be yours, that fire can be for you.

Then it ends. Then time ticks on. Then you remember what you had forgotten when you'd been surrounded by him. You remember that he is unobtainable. That no one ever picks stone when a diamond is waiting for him to pick _her._


	2. Silver

It's things like this that make you realise you've grown, more than the accomplishments and the physical changes. At one point she would have shocked you, she would have drawn you in with her attitude and looks. Now it's different. Now it's tiring. She's winding those golden strands around her fingers and batting those thick, doll-like lashes; you feel nothing. She's all diamond, all pretty, all too much. You remember when she didn't want you near her, remember how much simpler it was when she was just her and not trying to be a person closer to you. You're caught, she's been reeling you in for the whole day and you don't have the energy or the heart to tell her no.

You're not quite sure how to tell someone who thinks there's something more that there isn't, that for her there has never been. She has changed just like you, she's learned to weave webs and traps for you to fall into. You can't help but think it was too easy for her to do. Yet how do you say that the space she's trying to fit into was never meant for her. "Erina I'm tired, I want to go back to the dorm," she frowns at you pulling her lips into a pout that you think is supposed to be cute. Enticing. She doesn't move. She leans. Pressing herself closer, trying to meld things that aren't meant to be. You're struck by how wrong it feels, like pushing together two magnets. "Don't leave," she blinks up at you, doll lashes kissing her cheeks. You ignore her, ignore the guilty pulling in your stomach that comes with knowing there's a request you can't fulfill.

She shouts after you, you can't bring yourself to turn back. You're too full of thoughts of home, thoughts of eyes like molten gold and a smile like a warm blanket. Small, pale, delicate hands that slip into your own and fit so perfectly it hurts. Your heart is stuttering with thoughts of all the almosts: the almost kisses, almost wrapping her delicate hands in yours just to hold, thoughts of when being close enough to someone that you can feel their breath on your face felt right. She's all pretty silver wrapped around a core of iron, beautiful but with a strength hidden deep within. Down the hall Ereina is still shouting, still trying to pull you back with an imaginary string she thinks is tied to you.

You don't turn around.

You're already gone.

You're already too busy following the silver thread that leads home.


	3. You Wish

You _wanted_ to hate her. _Wanted_ to drag your nails across her milk white skin, tear her sapphire locks out at the root and punch straight through her soft smile. You _wanted_ to hate her quiet strength, hate her delicate intensity, hate how she was so warm, so kind. You _wanted_ to hate her because he loved her.

Sometimes it was easy, easy to simmer so close to hate, easy to let your jealousy trickle into anger. When she told you " I wish I could be like you, you're so talented, everyone respects you" the words burned the back of your throat, their sweetness tasted sour on your tongue. When he smiled so proud of her and what she had accomplished; gave her the look that you were sure belonged to only her, the unwavering faith that sang in their depths made you want to scream. God, you wanted to hate her. Maybe it was your shattered pride, maybe it was the part of you that had never learned how to properly accept a loss, which desperately tried to reject her. Maybe the reason you wanted to shun her was because you knew deep down you never could, because you completely understood why he would pick her.

There was this calm around her sometimes, this stillness that made people gravitate toward her; there were also times when she was: hectic, busy, a supernova of nervous energy; during those times her eyes held this resigned determination that burned like candlelight behind her golden irises. Your pride always spoke before your brain, yet when you spoke to her the warmth that surrounded her, the kindness that whispered in the tilt of her head, seemed to slow and stuff your pride back down your throat before it could snap. If you were less proud, more honest you may have said, "I wish I was more like you, maybe then he would of chose me, maybe even if he didn't I would be able to smile and say you deserve it."

God... If only you could hate her.


End file.
